


Lucifer, Resplendent

by CeNedraRiva



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Blood and Gore, Gore, Hopeful Ending, Horror, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Lima Syndrome, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Obsession, One-sided Lucifer/Sam Winchester - Freeform, Possessive Lucifer, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Sam is mad, Stockholm Syndrome, Temporary Character Death, Torture, mentally hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 05:18:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8388772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeNedraRiva/pseuds/CeNedraRiva
Summary: “It would not be unthinkable, to imagine Dean’s soul has ascended to Heaven,” Castiel mumbled.
Lucifer smiled.
“That is exactly what I am suggesting. So here is my offer. Follow me. Become my general and follow my commands, and I will lead you back to Heaven and your beloved. Lead my demons, do my bidding, and I will reward you with your own corner of Heaven to remain, safe and together under my rule. So I swear.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the October SPN Flashbang, the theme was horror.

 

Lucifer smiled faintly in the direction where only seconds before Dean Winchester had stood, now only occupied by empty space and the quickly fading remnants of an angel’s Grace. Zachariah, if he wasn’t mistaken. This seemed like the kind of plan he favoured, trying to force cooperation via terror rather than gentle coercion. The effort was doomed to failure, of course. The elder Winchester was far too stubborn to capitulate and follow the plans of the Host, as Lucifer could well remember.

Sighing happily, Lucifer turned back to the corpse of Dean Winchester, the version that belonged in his present. With the death of Michael’s vessel, the leader of the resistance, his victory over the Earth was now absolute. There was no one, no creature, man, little god or angel to contest his rule. It was unfortunate that the soul of the Righteous Man had fled while he was distracted by the younger version, presumably to reside in Heaven. It was a shame. Lucifer would have enjoyed having a new toy.

In one small corner of the vessel that had once been Sam Winchester, Lucifer could hear nothing but hysterics, some maddening mix of laughter and tears, all ugly and raw. Lucifer brushed a tendril of Grace across him, and the soul pressed closer, fingers tangling. If there was one thing Lucifer wished was different about this whole Apocalypse, it was for things to be easier on his Sam. Of course, he understood the necessity of their shared experiences, how else would Sam ever be able to sympathise with him? The human had loved his brother just as dearly as Lucifer had loved Michael, but this was fate. The Grand Story. Both betrayed, alone and angry, they stood united against Heaven and Earth. Lucifer and his Sam.

Sam lashed out against him. The hurt was no more than a kitten scratch before the glory that was Lucifer, but it still startled him. Sam snarled, shifting as if to attack again. Calmly, Lucifer uncoiled his Grace, surrounding and smothering Sam until the soul began to shiver. The coils tightened, squeezing closer until Sam began to struggle and choke, biting and scratching and writhing to get free. Lucifer only held tighter, firmly, and soon Sam began to scream out apologies. When the soul fell silent once more, unable to do anything more but jerk beneath his hold, Lucifer gentled. The soul whimpered, gasping for breath as random spasms wracked his frame. He gathered it closer, whispering soothing things to his disobedient one. Eventually, Sam began to move of his own conscious will again, burrowing closer and mumbling of his adoration for Lucifer. His beautiful Sam.

It gave him no joy to punish Sam this way. Sam was his most perfect gift, the first and only being since the Beginning to have been created solely for Lucifer, after thousands of generations of humans and millions of years of evolution. Simply for the existence of Sam, Lucifer could nearly forgive his Father the creation of Mankind. Of course, even with that crime forgiven, Lucifer would still war on Heaven. Understanding that perhaps there was some small smidgen of worth among the humans did not mean he forgave his Father for throwing him into the Cage. No infraction could have been worth that isolation, that betrayal.

Presently, Lucifer turned his attention outwards once more, scanning the area nearby for any uncorrupted souls. It seemed none of Dean Winchester’s followers had survived.

Wait.

No. Was that the angel? Dean’s angel had remained on Earth, rather than return to Heaven?

Flying to the room of the ambush, Lucifer found him. Sam pressed closer, trying to share their eyes. Smiling, Lucifer allowed him the luxury, letting Sam gaze upon the bloody, broken remains of the last fragment of Heaven left on Earth besides Lucifer himself. Sam curled against him like a particularly affectionate cat, babbling excitedly in nonsense Latin.

The angel lived. Three demons, no more than mad imps, sat around the limp form, cackling as they stripped flesh from bone, layer by layer. It was obvious they had no clue what exactly was keeping their prey alive, despite the severe blood loss and mutilation it had already suffered. Both of the angel’s legs were broken, bone showing through in several places. Various fragments of rubble, twisted metal and glass, protruded from his abdomen. His body was nothing but a bloody mess of bullet holes and viscera, and one eyeball was missing from within his skull. Still, his chest heaved, drawing shuddering gasps of the acrid air in some vain attempt to stave off death. The demons didn’t care, as long as they could draw screams from their victim.

It could only be Grace that held him alive. Lucifer’s eyes traced along the angel’s tattered wings, invisible and intangible to the demons. They would be truly useless for flight now, withered by isolation from the celestial plane. The angel was practically human.

Lucifer watched as the demons drew sharp shrieks and low moans from the pitiful thing, once his brethren. They were nothing but bodily reactions to pain. Anyone competent in torture could tell the angel’s mind wasn’t really present. Misery was radiating off of him like a psychic siren.

With a gesture, the demons were gone; dead or banished, Lucifer gave it no mind. He stepped closer. Sam giggled in the back of his head. Lucifer ignored him, focusing his Grace to tune into the frequency of the other angel’s thoughts. This was interesting, much more than killing the other Winchester or gloating to the past version of his enemy had been, and it was obvious the angel would not be speaking aloud any time soon. Not as he struggled to barely take another breath.

“You are Dean Winchester’s angel. The one who raised him from Hell. Castiel,” said Lucifer. The broken thing didn’t twitch, though his thoughts briefly flickered past memories of Dean Winchester, echoing with grief so strongly Lucifer could nearly taste it.

“I would have thought you gone, left for Heaven with the rest of them years ago, after it became clear Michael’s Vessel would never say yes. Surely there was no hope for your victory?” That garnered a stronger reaction, a snarling growl among his thoughts, an aborted attempt to spread his wings in aggression and dominance. Lucifer listened closely, picking out coherent thoughts from amid the grief and anger. He gave a surprised laugh.

“Really? You abandoned Heaven? For them?”

Lucifer sat besides his agonized brother, uncaring of the gore that surrounded them. It wasn’t like it would touch him. Smiling fondly, he considered the other’s injuries with something like pity.

“That is not true, is it, brother? It wasn’t for Humanity that you rebelled from Michael’s Dominion. No. You rebelled for him. For Dean Winchester.”

Castiel’s thoughts fluttered, losing focus between physical anguish and psychic screaming, bitter affection mixed with misery. Quite suddenly, Lucifer found himself angered by the poor quality of communication. Reaching forwards with his Grace, he found each of the angel’s bleeding wounds and all were cauterised, his blood replenished. Castiel screamed aloud, a short, sharp thing as his entire body spasmed with pain, before collapsing into unconsciousness.

The fallen seraph gasped as Lucifer revived him, shifting gingerly before settling again still and supine on the floor. His remaining eye blinked open, blue gaze finding Lucifer.

“It would be too much to ask you to kill me quickly, wouldn’t it.” Castiel’s voice was a weak growl in the quiet of the room. His thoughts still spiralled with misery, though Lucifer was glad to notice they now possessed far more clarity.

“You are quite a pathetic thing, Castiel, falling for love of a human. But I do not want you dead.”

Castiel gave a rough chuckle.

“Figures.”

Lucifer tilted his head to consider the other. This one was odd.

“Why would I want you dead, Castiel? You are the only other celestial being still on Earth. You are the only other angel passionate enough to rebel from Michael’s rule, and the only angel to try and break away from Father’s design. You’re absolutely fascinating.” Unspoken went the fact that Lucifer was yet to detect any fear from his brother. It seemed the angel was resigned to death, perhaps even hopeful for it.

Lucifer was not one to indulge the wishes of others.

The silence that fell between them wasn’t exactly comfortable, though neither of them felt the need to break it. Lucifer traced the somewhat suicidal apathy engulfing the humanized angel’s mind, drifting from longing to intense grief to blankness and back. Not in response to defeat, but for the loss of one human. How could one human be worth such devotion? The unquestionable loyalty that should only ever be channelled following the divine? Castiel made no effort to hide his thoughts as Lucifer rummaged through them; in fact, he seemed rather happy to lose himself in the memories of his time alongside Dean Winchester. The memories were not making any sense, though. Why would this garner such loyalty?

Lucifer frowned.

“What made him worth this? Surely you abandoned Heaven for a greater reason than sharing a burger? Or texting? Or fucking? Are human things so appealing?”

Castiel breathed slowly for a moment, constructing his response. Lucifer waited.

“Being with him made it worthwhile.” Castiel smiled wistfully, mind beginning to drift once more. Lucifer waited, but apparently nothing more was forthcoming.

“That’s it?”

Castiel didn’t speak.

“That’s – what? Really? A pretty boy smiles at you and you abandon all of Heaven? Let him use you time after time, before throwing you bruised and broken into the fire? All of this in some bull-headed quest to save another human?”

Castiel’s mouth twisted into a grin, something predatory despite the broken state of his body. He gave a low chuckle.

“Seems about right.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“I’m always happy to bleed for Dean Winchester.” Castiel’s singular undamaged eye slid back to Lucifer’s. “It’s still better than serving Heaven.”

Lucifer laughed out loud for a second. Staring down at the broken angel, he could only shake his head, incredulous.

“You really are an odd duck, Castiel,” he said. There was a pause as Lucifer considered his options, before speaking again. “I have an offer for you, and it is one I think you are unlikely to refuse. An opportunity for you. You see, I now have complete control of the Earth and every being on it. My demons inhabit every part of the globe, and obviously no other effort at rebellion will ever come as close to usurping me as the one recently led by Dean Winchester and you. Here, I have victory.  But that only means the battle must move onwards.”

Castiel blinked, eye glassy.

“You want Heaven.”

“Of course I want Heaven. It is our home.”

“Heaven is closed.”

“Perhaps it is to one such as you, but we are immortal beings. There is time enough to assault the unreachable.”

Castiel was silent, staring. It didn’t take long before his gaze sharpened, flickering with the first signs of life Lucifer had yet seen in him.

“It would not be unthinkable, to imagine Dean’s soul has ascended to Heaven,” Castiel mumbled.

“That is exactly what I am suggesting. So here is my offer. Follow me. Become my general and follow my commands, and I will lead you back to Heaven and your beloved. Lead my demons, do my bidding, and I will reward you with your own corner of Heaven to remain, safe and together under my rule. So I swear.”

Castiel gave a crooked smile, something nearly bittersweet. It didn’t fool Lucifer. He could feel the longing overtaking Castiel’s being, the desire to be close to his beloved once more.

“Dean would advise me not to accept a deal with the Devil.”

“Sam found it quite comfortable.”

The smile slipped away.

“You’re fucking kidding, right? I can barely see past the Veil anymore, and even I can see how fragmented he is. You shattered that boy into dust to reform around you in a shape you find pleasing. You’re utterly deluded if you think he’s comfortable with you.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed.

“Take care with how you speak, angel.”

Castiel gave a huff.

“Touchy. Fine, I will no longer speak or mention again of how completely you destroyed Sam Winchester.”

Lucifer snapped his fingers, and every fragment of rubble still within the body of Castiel suddenly heated to the point of turning molten. Castiel screamed, his body arching, hands contorting to ugly claws. As quickly as the fragments heated, they cooled, and Castiel collapsed back. Strangely enough, Lucifer could still sense no fear from the angel, now panting as his body twitched in pain.

It was a few minutes later before he attempted to speak again, voice hoarse, and he began as if he had merely paused to take a breath.

“It isn’t like you aren’t going to try and break me too, sometime during our association.”

Lucifer smiled.

“You agree to follow me?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know I would. Dean nearby and unforgiving is far better than Dean on a plane of existence I can never reach again. Of course I’m going to follow you.”

As Castiel spoke, Lucifer could see his wings begin to renew, his wounds beginning to heal as Lucifer’s excess Grace began to drain into his new follower. Castiel would not need a connection to Heaven to access his full powers, so long as he followed an archangel. Of course, Castiel had been unaware of this fact.

“Great! So we are in agreement!”

“Do you have a plan?”

Lucifer smirked.

“Have you ever heard of the Words of God?”

* * *

 

Sam was singing.

It was a simple, meandering tune, void of any meaning. Single stanzas from famous songs that Lucifer remembered echoing across the radio waves decades ago. Childish rhymes filled up the silence.

It was somewhat irritating how…not enthralling, of course it wasn’t enthralling, but Lucifer found it difficult to draw his attention away sometimes. Sam was singing for him.

The song took on a melancholy tone, filled with a nearly bittersweet longing. Lucifer shifted, still watching carefully. He was never really sure what to do when Sam began to sing. It wasn’t a thing he really felt the need to punish, he didn’t want Sam to stop singing. It was something pernicious, curious and lilting and creeping through his Grace until it became embedded within his own song.

Usually, these encounters ended with Lucifer burning Sam’s soul until he screamed or fell silent. Lucifer could forget the song if Sam was silent. He could ignore the odd upwellings the singing brought to him; the uncanny almost-guilt for accepting Sam’s vessel, the near-pity for the souls in the pit, the untraceable sense of loss as he saw the world in ruins. They were ersatz. Hollow. Echoes of Sam playing across his mind. Why could Sam not accept the world as it was? Lucifer’s world, the one they were working towards would be free of all of these imperfections. Heaven singing in perfect harmony beneath his rule while the creatures on earth lived and grew and died – an endless cycle of beauty and song – until the death of the universe itself. Why did Sam fight him so, even years after they had come together?

Castiel’s words would not leave him alone. Sam was strong. He wasn’t broken and fragmented.

Lucifer interrupted the song with a lash of Grace, revelling in the sound of Sam’s scream. It was only a short burst, and a moment later Sam sighed, pressing up against him in exhaustion. Lucifer was in no mood to coddle the boy, pushing him out to the furthest reach two beings sharing the same vessel could go. He wasn’t sure what to do with the puppy-like sense of hurt that overcame Sam, so he ignored it, turning outwards.

Their shared silence seemed to make the singing louder.

* * *

 

“Are you refusing to obey me, your master?”

Castiel hunched down, half-healed wings curling forwards as if to shield him.

“Come now. It’s hardly like I’ve asked you something difficult.”

“They’re my friends.”

Lucifer snorted.

“It is a simple enough task, Castiel. A chance for you to prove yourself.”

Castiel glared up at him, but his shoulders had slumped. Lucifer grinned.

“All for Dean, right? All evils are excused in the pursuit of love,” he drawled.

Travelling by wing it took only seconds for them to make it back to the rebel camp, settling on a hill overlooking the camp. Lucifer stood watching, Castiel besides him, as the humans went about their day. They would not yet be aware that Dean Winchester’s mission had been a failure. There would be anarchy.

The prophet Chuck Shurley caught his attention. The scruffy man was staring straight up at them both, despite the miles that separated them. He seemed despondent, sagging into himself. Lucifer noted to take him alive.

He turned to Castiel.

“Well?” Lucifer spoke with one eyebrow raised. “Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?”

Castiel glared back at him, and a second later he was gone.

Nearly a minute passed before there was any shift in the camp below.

Then the screaming began.

Humans scattered like ants from beneath an upturned stone. Demons kept a perimeter on the encampment, laughing as they caught escapees.

It didn’t take long. Shortly, all of the rebels – those still living at least – were gathered in the centre of the camp. Castiel stood over them, stoic in the face of their begging and pleading. Several of the women in particular seemed to be hanging on at his feet, crying out for him to acknowledge them. This all quietened as Lucifer stepped forwards, flying to stand before the line in less than a microsecond.

“Who are you?” One human spoke, with a rather belligerent tone, making to stand up from his position kneeling in line. Castiel visibly winced at the words, eyes finding Lucifer’s as he pleaded for the man’s life within his mind. Lucifer smiled, staring directly back at the fallen angel as he lifted one hand and snapped.

The screaming began again as the humans were covered in flying gore.

“Be silent before the Morningstar, the archangel Lucifer.” Castiel’s voice rang out. The humans quivered.

They were a rather sorry bunch. Unwashed, battered and hopeless. Lucifer was unimpressed.

“This is the resistance? Humanity’s last hope?”

Several of the women were snivelling. Lucifer sneered in distaste. Castiel had actually lain with these creatures?

The thoughts of one of them caught his attention, a hysterical litany of begging and Castiel’s name.

“Wait, this is one of the mud monkeys you debased yourself with! Ha!” Lucifer crowed, pressing his mind against hers. Stepping forwards, he crouched before her. “Nancy. Hi! Some people call me Satan.”

Nancy was shivering, staring up at him with wild eyes. Her gaze darted to Castiel and back.

“H-h-hell-ll-lo,” she stuttered. Lucifer grinned.

“So. You’re one of Castiel’s orgy bitches. What’s that like?”

Nancy let out a low whine, trying to scramble backwards without actually moving. Her mind flickered over memories of Castiel, and Lucifer had no trouble teasing them out. Seconds later, he burst into laughter, turning up to face Castiel.

“Really? I knew you were fucking these things, but you actually focused on pleasing them?”

Castiel was still, staring impassively back. Turning back to Nancy, he found her on the brink of hyperventilating.

“I can’t believe it! You let them think-” he broke off again, laughing. “You let them think fucking you would get them into Heaven!”

The other humans were beginning to stir with unease. One female in particular was staring up at their old comrade in betrayal. Apparently this was too much for Nancy, who stumbled into a sprint. Lucifer, still chuckling, snapped his fingers and broke both of her legs. With a scream she tumbled forwards, and with a crack splintered one wrist. Lucifer hissed in false sympathy.

Sighing, Lucifer stood to survey the entire line again.

“Well. This has been fun. Unfortunately, I do have a rather busy schedule, so we will have to move on now.” Turning, he addressed Castiel. “We’ll keep the prophet, and I’ll let you keep one of them as a fucktoy, if you want. Kill the rest.”

Castiel didn’t move.

“You asked me to capture them alive.”

Lucifer frowned.

“Yes. And now I want them dead.”

Castiel still didn’t move.

“What’s wrong? I’m letting you keep one.”

“Traitor!” One of the females spat at Castiel’s feet. Castiel flinched, but his eyes didn’t leave Lucifer’s. Lucifer stepped closer.

“Obey me, angel.” Neither of them moved. “You’re beginning to irritate me.”

Suddenly, Nancy’s low moans gave way into rather agonised screeching. The humans shrieked, some trying to run only to be pinned by Lucifer’s Grace, others simply curling in on themselves. Castiel’s expression remained impassive, though Lucifer could see tears beginning to gather within his eyes. Lucifer leaned forwards, whispering directly into Castiel’s ear.

“I have rescinded my offer. They will all die. By your hand or mine. I’m not fussy.”

Castiel was trembling now, just a little. His wings dropped back down into a submissive pose, his chin dropped to his chest.

“Damn you.” His voice was barely audible, broken and wet. Lucifer clasped one hand to his neck, holding him still, drawing him closer.

“Every one of them, Castiel. Oh, and make it hurt.” The other angel swallowed, still staring down, shoulders shaking.

Lucifer stepped back, and waited.

Castiel looked up to him, eyes dry and flat and empty. A perfect angelic soldier. He flicked one wrist, summoning his angel blade, and turned to the humans, composed.

As the screams began, Lucifer settled into a conjured throne, ornate and gilded. The prophet Chuck Shurley appeared collared and chained by his feet. Sam was chittering in the back of his head, unaware of the outside world for now.

Lucifer smiled, watching his reluctant ally butchering the humans. His little brother could be stubborn, it seemed. Lucifer could definitely respect passion. It was such a shame all that loyalty and love had been channelled into serving such unworthy creatures. No matter, Lucifer would correct him soon. This was only the first step to breaking the bond permanently.

It was around an hour later that the last of the screams cut out. Castiel stood in the middle of the slaughter, covered in blood and entrails, hands sticky with it. He seemed to be ignoring the fact that he could magic it all away in an instant, preferring to soak himself in the visceral proof of his guilt and shame. Lucifer could only roll his eyes at the melodrama of it. Any fool could tell the fallen angel had been left shaken by his first task under Lucifer’s command. That was no reason to remain so messy.

Lucifer stood from his throne, approaching his little brother. Catching his eye proved difficult. Castiel seemed determined to stare into nothingness and sulk.

“Well done. Perhaps a little messier than I’d prefer, but well done.”

Castiel stared up to him in silence. He was weeping again. Lucifer sighed in frustration.

“What? What is it? Why are you crying over this muddy filth?”

“You made me torture and kill my friends.” His voice was a low croak. His eyes looked lost.

“They’re all nothing. Nobodies. Unimportant, and most of them were damned anyway. Even among humans these weren’t very interesting ones.”

“They were my friends.”

“You’re not going to do this every time you kill someone, are you?” Lucifer, growled, impatient. 

“Fuck off! Fuck you! I can’t believe I-” Castiel broke off with a scream as Lucifer stabbed though his wings with tendrils of Grace. Seconds later he fell silent, panting heavily. Lucifer stepped forwards, lifting Castiel’s face until he could see the other angel’s eyes. There was still defiance there, still misery, but it was overshadowed by exhaustion.

“Now. I don’t mind you having a little difficulty adjusting back to an angelic mindset. You spent years among these humans. They were bound to contaminate you. However, I will not stand for you showing me such disrespect. I have offered you a wonderful opportunity, one you could not possibly have by yourself. I have been lenient. Don’t think I didn’t notice you shielding these humans from the worst of the pain you inflicted. Do not throw my generosity back at my face.”

As Lucifer spoke, Castiel seemed to compose himself, emotion draining from his expression. His Grace shimmered, vanishing the dirt and gore from his visage, mending the cuts and tears in his clothing. He stepped away, adjusting his shoulders until he stood tall. All at once, he was an angel again, and not simply a broken fallen thing.

“I apologise for my impertinence, sir. I got carried away, and forgot my place.”

“Sir?”

Castiel paused.

“Master?”

“That’s more like it. You’ll make an adequate servant yet.”

Castiel nodded, waiting for further instruction. Lucifer smiled. It wasn’t difficult to detect the unrest within his Grace. This compliant image was nothing more than a façade, and they both knew it. Castiel had spent too long with Dean Winchester as his only master to be able to assume true obeisance again.

* * *

 

“Have you considered that perhaps you miss Sam as he was?”

Castiel was inebriated, dozens of empty gin and whisky bottles scattered across the room. Meg, who had been smirking at the drunken angel, suddenly paled and excused herself, running from the room. Smart girl. Castiel was staring up at him, apparently unperturbed by his impertinent inquiry. Lucifer stared down at him. Behind his eyes, Sam stirred, listening, and apparently more coherent than usual.

“He is mine now.”

“But was he not so much more beautiful whole and independent? A potential ally rather than a pet in the back of your mind?”

Sam was watching him, waiting for an answer nervously. Why nervously? Sam knew him, knew how he would answer.

“I made him perfect.”

Bizarrely, Sam flinched back, hurt. Lucifer frowned, dragging him closer. Sam didn’t struggle.

“Poor Lucifer. You broke your favourite.”

“He loves me.”

Sam was weeping.

“Haven’t you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome? Lima Syndrome?”

“Be silent.”

“You don’t know what love means, brother.”

“I said silence!”

Castiel was suspended by his Grace, suffocating as the alcohol was burned out of his system. Still, his eyes were challenging, accusative. Lucifer snarled, stepping closer and tightening his grip until the angel began to struggle. Sam had begun to struggle too, trying to pull him back, trying to prevent this punishment. Lucifer ignored him. Despite it all, Castiel was glaring back at him through tears. It wasn’t much longer before he fainted.

Slowly, reluctantly, Lucifer pulled back. Castiel suddenly gasped, still unconscious, Grace swirling madly within his vessel before settling again. Unfortunately, he didn’t really want Castiel dead, even if he was frustrating. Even if he never shut up when he should.

Sam was his. Always.

* * *

 

Lucifer found it interesting to note that it was only ever among humans that Castiel ever displayed mercy. He had no reservations whatsoever when it came to slaughtering or even torturing demons. The disparity was really rather amazing, especially across the mental landscape of his celestial companion.

The demons were shrieking now. Three of them, begging him for forgiveness or reprieve or mercy. Lucifer ignored them easily. Castiel was working.

Carefully, so carefully, he traced the edge of an angel blade across the flesh of the demon’s vessel. Fiery sparks illuminated the skin from within as the blade damaged the very essence of the demon itself. The screaming was so constant as to fall into the background, unimportant. The angel Castiel was calm, as if he was merely tracing a brushstroke on a piece of fine artwork, instead of inflicting terrible agony on an infernal being. Sadistic.

More demons stood silently at the edges of the hall, watching, cowering, indifferent. Some of them perhaps believed that the little angel was showing off, attempting to intimidate ranks only ever impressed by power and savagery. Lucifer knew better. He alone could sense Castiel’s thoughts as he cut deeper. He alone could see the image of Lucifer projected over each of the demons assigned the punishment of proving Castiel’s skill.

It was more than a little amusing, or it would be if Chuck Shurley was still his captive.

After the last of them had burnt up, Castiel stilled, crouched over the bloody corpse, a vicious doll wound down. Lucifer watched him for a second, before addressing the room.

“So. What did we all learn?”

None of the demons seemed confident to speak up.

“That’s no good. Weren’t any of you paying attention?”

“Uh-mm-w-we shouldn’t allow prisoners to escape?”

“Oh, so close! Anyone else? No one?” Lucifer gave a deep sigh, standing to stroll across the space. “I had higher hopes for you lot, honestly. You are supposed to be the elite. The very best of the worst of humanity. And you let one little prophet get the best of you? He escaped from a literal horde of demons? I mean, come on!”

They were all cowering now, avoiding his eyes, trying to fade into the background.

“Okay, I’ll make it simple for you. Disappoint me, and the angel will tear you to pieces. Capisce?”

There was a chorus of agreements and adoration, before the demons began to stream out, still cowering. Lucifer rolled his eyes, moving to lounge across the throne once more. Castiel was still where he had frozen, wings arched and motionless. Quite suddenly, he seemed to come back to himself, relaxing minutely and standing to survey the damage he’d caused.

“You are aware demons are merely human souls tortured into insanity, right?”

Castiel flinched, spinning to glare at him. He was trembling again.

“Yes, oh brother dearest. I am aware of how Hell works.”

Lucifer smirked, shifting his gaze up to the ceiling. A fourth corpse hung from the rafters, the first of Castiel’s victims.

“I just thought you might have forgotten. You were rather broken up over torture when we last brought in human rebels.” Finding Castiel’s eyes once more, he continued. “Don’t get me wrong, you worked well. Efficiently. You just seem twice as invested in the task, this time. Maybe we should put out heads together, hash it out, see what’s working now that wasn’t last time.”

Castiel dropped his eyes, staring at the floor. His shoulders and wings hunched forwards in a way that, while signalling acquiescence, made it clear he wanted wholeheartedly to lash out. Lucifer’s grin grew wider.

“What’s wrong? You were very serene while you were working. Where did all that zen go?”

“We need another prophet.”

“That’s rather rude. I asked you a question, and you just change the subject?”

“I lost my zen when I became a full angel again and Prozac stopped working properly. Where will we find another prophet?”

“Grumpy.”

“Only Aaron Webber and Kevin Tran survived the croatoan outbreak.”

“Really, you should be thanking me. I could have left you for the demons. Given you to Abbadon, maybe, as a semi-immortal chew toy.”

Castiel stared.

“You already have both of the prophets.”

Lucifer smirked.

“Intuitive one, aren’t you. Yes, I collected them both years ago. Now we just have to wait for Chuck Shirley’s death. It shouldn’t be too long.”

“The tablet too, I expect.”

“Meg collected it for me.”

“Not much longer then.”

Castiel fell silent, staring down at hands once more sticky with blood. Lucifer pulled away from his thoughts when they began to drift back into pining for the elder Winchester. It really was unfortunate that such unending, fierce loyalty could be channelled in the service of such an unworthy being.

* * *

 

“Why do you still struggle against me?”

Sam refused to answer, writhing against his hold.

“Do I not provide for you, Sam? Do I not give you gifts?”

Sam was silent.

“Speak, beloved. Do not fear.”

_Screw you._

“Samuel.”

_Why?_

“You know how much I care for you.”

Laughter echoed throughout their shared space, harsh and grating. Lucifer could feel himself growing irritated, Grace twitching to lash out and silence him. He held back.

_You told me once that you would never lie to me. Don’t do me such a fucking disservice as to start now._

“Be careful of your tone, child.”

_More like it. Why do you even bother to ask my opinion? If I disagree with you, you’ll ignore it._

“Only because you start whining. Come on, Sam. We’ve had some fun times, haven’t we?”

Some sense of exhaustion seemed to overcome Sam, his presence beginning to fade back into a murmur. It was a familiar apathy, one that often seemed to overcome his vessel’s soul nowadays, draining his vitality. Lucifer shifted, gripping the soul firmly to stop it slipping further. He was unable to say why the idea of Sam drifting unaware and indifferent was so repulsive to him.

“Do not retreat while we speak.”

Sam was silent. Sam was still.

Lucifer shook him roughly. Lucifer burned him with Grace.

Sam was still.

Lucifer let him drift.

He missed Sam’s singing.

* * *

 

“A Heaven-bound soul. St Peter’s Key. A native of Heaven. Easy enough.”

“Really, brother? You think you can find a pious human among this filth?”

“Yes, actually.”

Castiel lay sprawled across a chair and table, a remarkable tableau of human indolence. Kevin Tran was quiet, trying not to attract attention. His mother stood beside him, vigilant.

“The rules of Heaven don’t make wartime exceptions, Castiel. We both know that.”

He snorted.

“Not all humans fall so easily into hedonism as I did.”

“Was there a single Heaven-bound soul among your rebel movement?”

Castiel’s smirk fell, eyes sharp.

“Don’t talk about them.” His voice was dripping with menace. Lucifer arched one eyebrow.

“You can’t still be upset about that. It was weeks ago now.”

“You forced me to murder them.”

“Or,” he raised one finger. “-did you force you to murder them? I did give you a chance to keep one.”

Castiel stared at him, loathing bubbling behind his eyes. Lucifer smirked, gazing back until Castiel looked away.

“Where would we find the key?”

“Ah, well that should be rather easy. I picked up a rather interesting device when Meg was liaising with the Styne family. A compass of sorts, used to track objects.”

“An alethiometer?” Kevin froze even as he spoke. Lucifer eyed him, watching as the blood drained from his face. His mother, a rather idiotically brave woman, shifted as if to block Kevin from his sight. Blinking, Lucifer turned back to Castiel.

“It won’t take too long to track down.”

Castiel nodded, contemplative.

Lucifer turned inwards, poking at Sam. He hadn’t come forwards ever since their disastrous attempt at a dialogue. It was beginning to irritate him.

“You know…” Castiel trailed off. Lucifer waited a second, but it didn’t seem like Castiel was going to continue.

“Are you planning on sharing with the class, Castiel?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Oh brother, I didn’t know you cared.”

“I apologise for leading you to believe I care for you, Morningstar, that wasn’t my intention. I simply don’t appreciate your methods of sharing your frustrations.”

Castiel flinched, giving a loud hiss as Lucifer’s Grace tore forwards, ripping into his wings. He shuddered, relaxing only when the Grace retracted. The humans looked on in confusion.

“You were saying?”

Castiel stared back at him, eyes half-lidded and lazy, quite remarkable considering the pain Lucifer knew he must be in.

“You’re aware that you only ever confirm my arguments?”

This time he actually gave a sharp cry.

“I think we’ve gotten off topic.” Castiel paused, breathing deeply, carefully. His wings were trembling, a visual call for affection and mercy, at odds with the stoic demeanour of his vessel. “I think I know we can find a Heaven-bound soul.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm.” He swallowed, closing his eyes for a second. “Sam is Heaven-bound.”

Lucifer froze for a second, before his Grace began to writhe erratically, spiralling deeper.

“You were right to think I wouldn’t like it.”

Castiel smirked, before his eyes fluttered shut, focusing on healing himself.

* * *

 

Sam had returned to the surface.

Lucifer would not release him. Never. Sam belonged with him.

Sam was incoherent again. Murmuring broken syllables, moving closer in a bizarre stop-start fashion interspersed with flinches.  So trusting, even against his own instincts.

Lucifer didn’t like it when Sam flinched. Sam should never fear him. Lucifer should never need to hurt him.

Sam was Heaven-bound. It was marked upon his soul, something only a demon-deal could overrule.

In Heaven, they would become two separate entities, no longer bound together by physical matter. Once he ruled Heaven, he would never need Sam again.

No.

Sam was his. Forever. It didn’t matter if they never shared a body again. Sam was his.

Heaven was his home.

Sam was everything else.

* * *

 

Kevin’s voice didn’t waver as he spoke the incantation. Lucifer watched as the sigils began to glow. Static seemed to invade the air, power gathering within Castiel’s Grace, focusing on the key in his hand. Irritatingly, he could not act as the focus for the ritual himself. God had cast him out of Heaven, so St Peter’s Key hadn’t recognised him as a native of Heaven.

Which left Castiel.

He had to trust Sam’s soul to Castiel.

Castiel met his eyes. It went unspoken that they would only remain allies for as long as it took for Castiel to recover Dean’s soul. The elder Winchester would never stand by while Lucifer ruled, and Castiel would only ever follow him. Perhaps he’d leave them alive. He’d need something to challenge him once he had total dominion. That would get boring within a century or two.

Kevin paused, and in the break in the spell Lucifer threw himself out of his vessel, dragging Sam out behind him. Carefully, so carefully, he handed Sam’s soul into Castiel’s gentle hold. Castiel smiled, cradling the soul to himself even as the energy of the ritual shifted. Kevin’s voice rose higher, growing sharper, before the energy pulsed outwards. A jet of light sprang skywards, twisting and whistling like burning magnesium.

Suddenly a noisy chorus burst forth – the voices of Heaven. The Gate was open!

Castiel and Lucifer both sprang forwards, following as Sam’s soul sailed Heaven-wards. Hundreds of thousands of demons shucked their meatsuits, black smoke streaming into the sky. Ahead, he could hear the angels panic. None of them had ever expected he could seize Heaven.

Finally, they had made it. Finally, he was home.

* * *

 

Sam was missing.

Dean Winchester’s Heaven was empty. Castiel was gone.

Sam was missing.

Kevin Tran was warded, occluded from his senses. The Angel Tablet had disappeared.

Sam was missing. Sam should never have gone missing.

Lucifer snarled, standing vessel-less in the centre of a vast swathe of destruction. There wasn’t another living being, plant, animal or spirit for miles. He shrieked out in rage.

Castiel wanted a war. With a single action, he’d called down the wrath of all Heaven and Hell upon himself. He should never have touched Sam.

Lucifer would give him war.


End file.
